


Flickering Shadows

by Squeemu



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Canon Compliant, Gen, Horror, M/M, No main characters were harmed in the writing of this fic, Prompto and Gladio are together you just can barely tell, Psychological Horror, Starscourge corruption, World of Ruin, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeemu/pseuds/Squeemu
Summary: "Uh," Prompto said nervously, "where is everyone?"Gladio shrugged. "Maybe they left for the day." Plenty of reasons why the quarry workers might've head home early for the day. Just because no one was around didn't mean something bad had happened.But Prompto was shifting his weight, already getting himself spooked as hell. "Yeah, but why did they just leave their tools there? Like they just—vanished." His eyes widened suddenly. "You don't think they all turned into daemons, do you?"Gladio shook his head. "Would've left their clothes, too," he pointed out.Prompto nodded, his eyes still wide. "R-right," he said, sounding uncertain. "So, uh, m-maybe they left some meteor shards for us, all ready to go?""Maybe." Or maybe they took 'em back with 'em, if they'd already headed home for the day. “Let’s look around."
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Flickering Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoldatMort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoldatMort/gifts).



Gladio parked the truck outside the quarry, stopping just short of the rubble blocking the narrow path into the main site. 

"Uh, weren't the guys supposed to like. Meet us here?" Prompto asked, jumping out of the truck with a frown. “Meteorshards, pre-packed and ready to go? What happened to our easy pick up run?"

Gladio crossed his arms, looking around. "That was the plan." He shrugged. Plans changed all the time, though, especially with missions like these. Prompto still got spooked about it, though. "Maybe they're still working. Easy to lose track of the time out here."

"Right," Prompto said doubtfully, and then, voice brightening with false cheer, "Time sure flies when you're having fun, huh?”

Gladio snorted.

"Tons of really quiet fun," Prompto continued, the cheer in his voice turning strained. "You know. Like. A silent rave or something. Everyone just standing in place. Having a great time, not moving or making noise of any kind.” He shivered again, despite all his layers, holding his arm around his chest. Wasn't even that cold out, but he was still decked out in hat and gloves, that red scarf he’d found pulled protectively around his neck. 

Gladio thought about warning Prompto to keep his voice down, but the guy was already starting to psych himself out. Like he got some weird enjoyment out of flying apart at the drop of a hat, right up until the danger finally hit.

And whenever Gladio did tell him to shut it, he only talked more.

Nothing to do but go find the workers, then. Or at the very least, their meteorshards. "C'mon," Gladio told him, picking his way through the rubble and heading down the road to the main quarry.

As they moved closer to the quarry, though, the more uneasy Gladio felt. It really _was_ quiet. Too quiet. The rock walls made sound travel weird down here, Gladio knew that first hand. But this silence was heavy and oppressive, settling thick at the back of his throat.

Gladio shook it off. Kept moving. He was just letting Prompto get to him, was all.

They hit the main site a few minutes later. No one was around and the place was a mess, tools dropped on the ground close to the meteor. Hadn’t even bothered to put them away. No sign of struggle, though. Gladio shook his head. Unprofessional. Made him think of Noct, just dropping his shit as soon as he was done with it, Iggy always trailing behind to pick up after him.

Took a breath and let it out, along with the sudden memory of Noct, disappearing into that damn crystal.

Goddamn brat of a prince.

"Uh," Prompto said nervously, breaking through Gladio's thoughts. "Where is everyone?"

Gladio shrugged, pulling himself back together. "Maybe they left for the day." Wasn't unheard of. Starscourge sometimes settled into the quarry like a black fog, seeping into every crack and crevice, filling the lungs with every breath. Daemons sometimes braved the lights, or a hungry pack of animals looking for their next meal. Plenty of reasons why the workers might head home early for the day.

But Prompto was shifting his weight, back and forth, nervous as hell already. "Yeah, but why did they just leave their tools there? Like they just—vanished." His eyes widened suddenly. "You don't think they all turned into daemons, do you?" 

Gladio shook his head. "Would've left their clothes, too," he pointed out.

Prompto nodded, his eyes still wide. "R-right," he said, sounding uncertain. "So, uh, m-maybe they left some shards for us, all ready to go?"

"Maybe." Or maybe they took 'em back with 'em, if they'd already headed home for the day. “Let’s look around."

They checked the main quarry for the better part of fifteen minutes. Didn't find a goddamn thing, besides those dropped tools. No blood, no mess, no black dust. Assholes had probably just quit early and didn't think to leave them a note. "Head back?" Gladio finally asked.

Prompto let out a breath. “Yeah, let’s go. _I_ sure as hell don't wanna pick up a pickaxe and do any mining today."

"Be good training," Gladio told him, grinning.

“Then feel free to show me how it's done, big guy," Prompto told him, leaning back against the little metal console with a little smirk, his scarf loose around his neck and his hair sticking out at ridiculous angles from under his hat.

"It was your idea," Gladio informed him. "I got better things to do with my time." 

Prompto laughed, grinning at him, warm and inviting. It pulled at Gladio's attention, a little thread that tugged him forward, urging him to _do_ something about it. Took a step—

—and froze, static blasting from a radio on the console. The crackling white noise masked a voice, repeating the same garbled word, over and over. 

"Big guy?" Prompto whispered, not taking his eyes off the radio.

"Shh," Gladio hushed him, straining to understand that one word, repeating on end. He reached over, trying to find a dial, something to strengthen the signal. ”How the hell do you work this thing?"

Prompto was moving over, pushing him out of the way. "Shit," he hissed. “This is an old model, I don’t—” and the signal abruptly cut short, the sudden silence as loud as the static had been.

Gladio swallowed hard, trying to keep his cool. One of them had to, and it sure as hell wasn't gonna be Prompto.

Besides, he'd heard worse over a radio channel. Way worse. This was just a little static. Prompto'd probably set the thing off by accident.

"Could—" Prompto started and broke off with a shuddery breath. "C-could you tell what he was saying?"

Gladio shook his head. "Nope."

"Cool," Prompto said, his voice rising. "That's cool. Super great. Super duper awesome.”

"Calm down," Gladio said. "We don't even know where the signal came from."

"Uh huh," Prompto said, gesturing at the radio, his movements short and jerky, "but like, this thing doesn't have _that_ much reach."

"It can reach Lestallum," Gladio pointed out, trying to keep him grounded.

“Even better!" Prompto said, throwing his hands up in the air. "So what, we can die now, here, or later in Lestallum?!”

"Calm. Down," he warned, a little growl under the words. “Nothing’s here, so let's get going."

Gladio led their way back to the entrance, keeping his movements quiet, just to be on the safe side. Glanced back over his shoulder at Prompto every once in awhile, make sure the little guy was still with him and that no one _else_ had joined their party. 

They hadn’t made it more than halfway when Prompto stopped and asked in a harsh whisper, "Did you hear that?" 

Gladio turned around. ”Hear what?"

He'd stopped just next to the rocky path that led to a smaller quarry site, one barely used. The area was unstable, the entrance no more than a carved out tunnel, rusted iron girders pushed up against the walls to hold the rock in place. Thick beams of wood had been placed where rusted girders had failed, and the path was thick with rockfall. 

But the meteorshards were just as good as the rest and the gil earned spent just as easily. Not like they could afford to shut the place down, anyway, not when shards were getting harder and harder to come by.

"I—thought I heard our contact," Prompto said, “Nitor?” He bit his lip, gaze lost down the path, and took a slow breath, holding it like he'd forgotten what to do with it. "Just—" he started, shaking his head, "just gimme a sec—" and jogged off down the path. 

Shit. Hell was he thinking? 

Gladio took off after him, only he couldn't move as fast as the little asshole without making noise. Prompto'd disappeared down a curve in the path, a few feet away from the opening to the smaller quarry, and dammit. Stupid dumbass. Gladio was gonna kill him, pulling shit like this.

Gladio made himself slow down as he moved closer, keeping his footsteps close and even. Couldn’t hear a goddamn thing except the gravel crunching quietly underfoot.

Only—hell. Were those _blood stains_ on the path? 

He squared his shoulders grimly, holding the armiger ready in his mind, and kept moving.

He saw Prompto first, silhouette dark against the dim, flickering glow of the meteor. Kid wasn't moving, frozen in place like he'd been hit by a spell, arms half-raised. The silence pressed at the air, against his chest.

Gladio's throat was dry. "…Prompto?" 

Prompto didn't move. 

And then Gladio saw the rest of it, spread around the meteor. The lifeless bodies of the miners, their limbs tangled and broken like branches of a tree. A few of the lucky lay discarded at the base of the meteor, and the rest…

Their bodies decorated the outlying meteor, glowing shards protruding from their chests, lighting their faces with a sickly blue light. Their blood ran down the side of the meteor in thick black streaks. It looked—contaminated. Unclean.

Infected.

Gladio fought against the sudden nausea, the sense of wrongness. The meteor wasn't contaminated, couldn't be. It was blood, just human blood. 

Prompto turned, retching. 

They had to get out of here. 

It was Gladio's first thought, immediately followed by another. They had to stand their ground, find out what had happened here. 

"Prompto," Gladio said sharply.

Prompto shook his head, still doubled over. 

Gladio walked over, squatting next to him, keeping his back to the rock face and a careful eye around them. "They're dead," he said. "Beyond our help."

Prompto inhaled, short and shaky. A hysterical laugh bubbled out of him, followed by another shaky breath. Gladio expected him to argue or yell. Didn't expect him to say, "I know," quiet and broken. "I just—" and shook his head, wiping at his mouth. 

Gladio reached out, squeezing his shoulder. "Yeah. I know." He left his hand there a moment before straightening up. "Gonna check the perimeter, make sure whoever did this is gone."

"Whoever or whatever," Prompto muttered.

Gladio shook his head. "Humans," he said shortly. "Daemons don't turn it into a show." He let out a breath. "Must've been a damn good haul for them to attack this many miners."

"Or a big band," Prompto suggested.

Gladio nodded. "Or both," he agreed. "C'mon." He hesitated before adding, "Don't be stupid, and yell if you see trouble." 

"Heh," Prompto said. "Count on it."

Gladio arched an eyebrow. "On you being stupid?"

Prompto stood up, giving Gladio a half-hearted shove. "On yelling," he said, trying on a shaky grin. "At the first sign of trouble." He took a breath. "Like. The very first sign. Also if I see any bugs. Or that terrible daemon spider lady."

Gladio snorted. "She's not a lady."

Prompto's grin looked a little more solid. "Maybe if you tell yourself that enough times it'll keep you from getting distracted."

Gladio snorted. "Me? I'm not the one who gets distracted by every woman he meets.” Ignored Prompto’s squawk of protest and nodded at the meteor. "C'mon."

They worked their way around the perimeter of the excavation site, sticking close together. They didn't find a single living thing, corrupted or otherwise. Didn't find a hint of mined shards, either. The scavengers must've taken their prize and fled. No telling when they'd come back though. The violence of the discarded bodies was a promise and a threat, an advertisement of just what they would do to anyone who got in their way.

"So uh, we can go now?" Prompto asked as they came back around.

"Not a chance," Gladio said firmly. "Gotta check the bodies."

"For survivors?" Prompto said skeptically.

For anything salvageable. "IDs," Gladio said. "Some of them probably have families. Least we can do." Prompto made a face. "And keep an eye out for anything useful."

Prompto's mouth flattened. "Oh," he said, and that was it. 

He didn't like it. Gladio couldn't blame him. Not like he wanted to do it, either, but it had to be done and they both knew it. He bent down, ignoring the weight of Prompto’s judgment, and quickly and carefully went over the bodies, trying to avoid the worst of the blood. 

There were only a handful of faces Gladio recognized, even fewer whose names he remembered. Most he'd never met, which came as a welcome relief. And then there were a few who'd been out in the darkness too long, the starscourge settling in under their skin, turning it dark and dusky, shadows pooling under their eyes, staring blankly up at him, the whites of their eyes grey, pupils an unnatural shade even in this dim light.

Gladio swallowed. Reached out and closed a corpse’s eyelids out of respect and—what the fuck?! Jerked his hand away the leftover sensation of the thing’s skin still creeping over his fingers. Still warm and weirdly stiff, almost leathery. And—he could see it on the rest of the man now, too, the prominent ridges of his cheekbones, the ears a little thick, the tips coming to a blunt point.

Corrupted. Turning. Somewhere between human and daemon.

The nausea returned like a punch to the gut. It was all he could do to stay in place instead of scramble back like some scared kid. Fuck, he hated this bullshit. "Think this is one of the scavengers," he called to Prompto, keeping his voice steady. "Doesn't look like one of ours. Clothes’re different."

Prompto straightened up, moving over to peer over Gladio's shoulder. "Whoa."

"Corrupted," Gladio told him.

"No kidding," Prompto muttered, hugging his arms around himself. "Think when we go back I'll take a good long sunbath in front of those UV filters, burn off any lingering starscourge.” 

Gladio grunted his agreement. Went back to the body, pat it down and see if it had anything useful for them, only—its eyes were wide open again, staring blindly up at him. Fuck. _Fuck_ this shit. His skin was crawling, each hair trying to stand on end.

Before he could move, the thing's hand reached out, grabbed his wrist. Gladio jumped, his sword in hand without conscious thought. "Get back," he yelled at Prompto.

"Wait," the thing groaned, its voice dusty and rotten as the starscourge. 

"Like hell," Gladio shouted, raising his weapon.

"Wait!" It sounded panicked, desperate.

"Shit," Prompto whispered, and then, loudly, "Gladio! Wait! _Stop!_ “

Gladio staggered, overbalanced, broadsword crashing to the ground just to the right of the thing's side.

"He can talk!" Prompto burst out.

"No shit," Gladio growled, recovering himself.

"P-please," the thing rasped.

Gladio ignored it. Prompto, of course, did not. 

"Did you kill these people?" Prompto demanded.

The thing shook its head. 

Gladio scoffed, loudly and pointedly.

"Are you hurt?" Prompto asked it. And—wait, was he actually buying this thing's bullshit?

“The hell are you doing? It’s corrupted," Gladio snarled. "Worse." He gestured. "Did you look at it?"

"Yeah, I saw," Prompto said shortly. "But he can still talk. Maybe he can give us some answers." He took his hat off, ran his hand through his hair. "And—" let out a breath, putting the hat back on, his hair sticking out even worse, now. "I'm tired of killing things. Wouldn't it be nice to save someone for once?"

Gladio grit his teeth, but he couldn't make himself say no. The guy was too damn sentimental for his own good.

Prompto turned away from Gladio to address the—thing in front of him. "You're not gonna, like, bite me or anything, right? No overwhelming desire for human flesh?"

It stared him, eyes wide and sickly dark. 

"Prompto—" Gladio tried.

"I trust him," Prompto said over his shoulder. Held up a hand. "And I'm wearing gloves, right? And—we've been okay so far. Been bit by worse. Both of us."

Gladio’s jaw tightened. He _hated_ this. Watching Prompto throw himself into another terrible idea, while all he could do was stand back and wait for the worst to happen. Like guarding Noct all over again, only then, they both knew the stakes. Gladio kept his sword in hand and watched as Prompto carefully felt his way around the thing's body, checking for wounds. 

"He was shot," Prompto announced finally. "Twice. Once in each leg. Lost a lot of blood." 

_Blood_. "If you can call it that," Gladio muttered. The stuff looked almost black. 

Prompto took his scarf off and pulled a bottle of alcohol from the armiger. "This might hurt," he murmured. Offered the man a drink, and then poured some of the alcohol on the scarf. "Don't—please don't bite me, okay? You don't know Gladio. He'll be unbearable for _days_ if you prove him right.”

The man—thing—shook its head. Hissed as Prompto applied the alcohol to one of his legs, fingers clawing at the ground as Prompto cinched the scarf tight around the wound.

Prompto turned to look at Gladio. ”Your scarf," he ordered, holding a hand up expectantly.

"What about it?" Gladio said, crossing his arms belligerently.

"I need it."

"Shouldn't have used your own."

"I need it for him," Prompto said pointedly.

He'd have to burn the thing, if the man ever gave it back. But Prompto was _looking_ at him, and Gladio knew from long experience Prompto wouldn't stop until he handed it over.

"Fine," he muttered, pulling his scarf free and handing it over. "But you owe me a new one."

Prompto took it, ignoring him and applied more alcohol. "Looks like your arm's been broken, too,” Prompto said to the man, his voice steady and calm. Gladio'd heard him use it on people in the infirmary, about to set a bone or stitch up a bad cut. "Try not to move it," and tied the makeshift bandage around the other leg. He let out a breath, trying to blow hair out of his face, but the the strands stayed firmly in place. "That's all I can do for now. We'll be able to help more in town." He hesitated, mouth twisting a little. "Though, uh, not sure for how long."

The man looked at Prompto with resigned acceptance written into every shadow of his face. "Thank you," he rasped.

"Anyone else alive?" Prompto asked him.

The man's face hardened. "Leave them."

"Rather kill them now," Gladio broke in, "than deal with daemons later."

"I'm the only one they left," the man said. Shrugged and closed his eyes.

"Can you stand up?" Prompto asked.

The man took a breath.

"We're sure as hell not carrying you," Gladio informed him.

The man pushed himself up, mouth stretched into a grimace, but he made it to his feet. Made it to their truck and didn't object when Gladio made him sit in the back. 

\- - -

When they reached town, Gladio made Prompto explain the situation to the guards. He was almost disappointed when they let them in, with only a small handful of hunters accompanying them. He was even more disappointed when the man didn't burst into flames under the glare of the bright spotlights. 

“We have to take him to the infirmary," Prompto said firmly. Gladio didn’t have much choice but to help him haul the man into the hospital. Help him keep watching, sitting in the room while the nurses poked and prodded their prisoner, trying to bring him back to some kind of health, all while keeping their limbs out of biting distance.

”So what's your name?" Prompto asked after what was probably no less than a minute of silence. Gladio rolled his eyes.

"Latro." The man said it from between clenched teeth.

"Latro," Prompto said, testing it out. "So, uh, Latro. Where're you from?"

The man smiled faintly. It was not a comforting smile. "Niflheim. Came on one of the boats—a refugee—" and pushed out a harsh breath as one of the nurses collected blood, his hand gripping the hospital bed he was lying on, metal creaking under his fingers. 

"A boat?" Gladio leaned forward. “When?” Maybe they could salvage it.

Latro shook his head. "Months ago. I—had hidden onboard."

"Stowaway," Prompto said, nodding, though Gladio had his doubts.

"And when I finally dared come out, the ship had landed and I was all alone." He took a breath. "There must have been an attack, or a storm. Piles of clothes littered the floor. I made it off the boat, but before I had gone more than a mile, a group of men surrounded me." 

"Stop moving so much," one of the nurses ordered.

Latro gripped the bed again. He'd left a dent the first time. And hell, heightened strength was never a good sign. "It was the same group that attacked the quarry," Latro continued, his jaw tense, voice rusted from disuse. "They gave me a choice. Join them or die."

"Fuck," Prompto breathed.

"You know where their hideout is?" Gladio demanded.

"Their hideout," the man confirmed, nodding, "and their stores, and their lookouts.”

“I told you, stop moving,” the nurse muttered.

Gladio crossed his arms, ignoring her. "I don't believe your story," he told the man bluntly. "And I don't trust you. But if you help us take them down, my opinion won’t matter much.”

Latro turned his head, catching Gladio's eyes, his strange pupils almost burning in their intensity. "I will do everything I can to help you destroy them," he swore fervently.

And Gladio actually believed him. Had to ask, though. "Why?"

"I hate them." He said it simply, like there was nothing else to say. "I have no stomach for what they do."

Gladio knew that feeling. It twisted in his belly, hot rage simmering through his blood. 

"We'll take them down," Prompto promised the man. "Don't worry."

Latro's mouth stretched again. But this time, it wasn't a grimace. It was a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, [LeSoldatMort](https://twitter.com/lesoldatmort)!!!! Even if your birthday was months ago. 
> 
> Please admire this amazing prompt I was given, drawn by the man himself.  
> 
> 
> Art posted with permission; original post can be found [here on twitter](https://twitter.com/LeSoldatMort/status/1253433405745901568?s=20). You should definitely go make his day and tell him how great it is. 
> 
> And seriously, thank you, Mort, for being such a cool dude and all around constant inspiration. <3 
> 
> There is a second part planned, but I have no idea when I will actually have time to write it.


End file.
